


Wedding Night Jitters

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Domestic Fluff, Food, M/M, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: Modern day AU. Shortly before their wedding, Moran worries that Moriarty is having second thoughts about their impending marriage.





	

Moran looks up from his bowl, watching the professor as he distractedly pushes his mangled but otherwise barely-touched croissant around the plate.

“You all right?” Moran asks after swallowing his current mouthful of muesli.  
  
Moriarty's gaze drifts across to meet Moran's. “Hmm?”

“You've been mutilating that croissant for ten minutes now. Something on your mind?” Moran tries to ask this lightly, casually, but he hesitates with his spoon hovering over the bowl, fearful perhaps that he knows what may be troubling the professor.

“No, nothing.” Moriarty drops his gaze to the newspaper resting on the table beside his plate but continues to toy with the croissant.

“You've been attempting to read that same article for ten minutes and all,” Moran remarks, setting his spoon down in his bowl. “Professor, are you...” He puts his hands together in his lap and looks down at them, rubbing his right thumb over the platinum ring on his left hand. “Are you having second thoughts, about marrying me?”

Moriarty looks up sharply from the paper. “No!” He meets his companion's questioning, slightly fearful gaze as Moran looks up from his engagement ring. “No, my dove, not at all.” Indeed it surprises him still, how much he wants this, something so conventional. Perhaps it was merely a passing fancy initially, the thought of marrying Moran, a means to show his possession of his lover, his dominance over him, and he has to admit to himself too that there is some perverse pleasure to be gained in the thought of how much such a marriage will irritate and outrage the bigots and traditionalists. But it was not purely about ownership or winding up the bigots and Moriarty knew this even as he was picking out the ring that now sits on Moran's finger. Despite Moran's occasional scornful remarks about marriage in the past, Moriarty strongly suspected that the sense of stability and security being married could provide to one who has suffered so much loss and upheaval in his past would appeal to Moran, and he was proven correct in this belief. Even so he had not expected quite so much enthusiasm on the colonel's part at the idea, nor how he would himself be moved by this. Moran's very real pleasure at Moriarty's proposal touched the professor, filling him with a sense of warmth and elation that he knows could never be achieved by his simply possessing Moran. Perhaps his desire to make Moran happy has long been peculiarly selfish and selfless all at once.  
  
“But something's bothering you,” Moran says.

“It's not that.”

“What then?”

Moriarty sighs slightly. He puts the mangled croissant down and wipes his hands on his napkin. “It is just... our wedding night.”

“What of it?”

“I am aware that it is generally traditional for the newly married couple to... consummate the marriage on their wedding night.”

“I s'pose.” Moran narrows his eyes slightly, appearing somewhat bemused. “You're worried that I'd demand sex of you then?”

“Not demand, no. Simply that... you will expect it, and if I was not in the mood for it, it might sour an otherwise pleasant day by my having to reject your advances.”

Moran laughs, though without malice. This is a laugh of pure relief. “Professor,” he says, leaning forward, reaching to clasp Moriarty's hand. “I understand that your feelings about sex ain't exactly like mine, and I weren't expecting that we'd automatically _consummate_ the marriage on our wedding night.” He rubs his thumb across Moriarty's knuckles. “If we both want that then, that's fine, but if you don't want to then, that's fine too. Who's to say even I'll be in the mood then anyway?”

“You are always in the mood for sex,” Moriarty says with a smile.

Moran, knowing when he is being teased, grins. “Well, more or less. But if all you want to do then is go to bed to sleep, or laze about in your pyjamas and eat wedding cake and watch TV, that's all fine with me.” He relinquishes the professor's hand, leaning back and returning to scooping the last of the muesli out of his bowl. “We've had sex plenty of times before anyway, and we'll have the rest of our lives to have plenty more. I mean, so long as you want to.” He chews thoughtfully on his last mouthful of muesli before swallowing it. “Anyway that whole sex on your wedding night thing, that was only traditional that it was this major event cos you weren't supposed to get laid before that - deflowering the virginal bride and all that - but we live in an enlightened age, Professor.”

Moriarty smiles thinly. “Sometimes I do wonder if that is true.”

“Well, sex at least don't have the same... mystique around it as in times gone by.”

“Are you trying to imply that sex with me is commonplace?” Moriarty maintains a perfectly serious expression for a moment, before he grins.

“Nothing to do with you is commonplace, sir.” Moran slides his chair back and stands up, picking up his empty bowl. “You not eating that?” He nods towards the croissant on Moriarty's plate.

Moriarty eyes the cold croissant with disinterest. “I'd rather not.”

“Want me to make you a bacon butty instead?” Moran carries his bowl over to the side and places it into the dishwasher.

“There's no need.”

“Not even with nice, crispy bacon?” Moran returns to stand beside the table. “And soft white crusty bread, with plenty of butter.”

Moriarty hesitates, obviously tempted, and somewhat surprised too that Moran is offering to make bacon sandwiches when he has become so health-conscious, at least in regards to his meals and exercise. He still regularly tries (and fails) to convince Moriarty to replace his more usual breakfasts with something that looks like it should be fed only to small herbivorous animals. “No, I'll go without breakfast today, thank you.” He looks down at the paper again.

Moran continues to regard him, his head tilted slightly to one side. “And a little bit of mustard,” he adds.

Moriarty feigns disinterest for a moment or two more before he glances up at Moran again over the top of the newspaper. “English?”

“Of course.”

The professor drops his gaze to the paper again. “Very well,” he says.

Grinning, Moran leans over, stooping to place a light kiss on the top of Moriarty's head, noting the professor's small smile at this in the reflection in the silver coffee pot.

“Thank you,” Moriarty says softly.

Moran straightens up again, picking up the plate with the croissant as he does so. “You're very welcome,” he says.


End file.
